Strobe Light
by dirtydarkness418
Summary: AU - He had to have her. He saw her legs, her pushed up breasts, her contagious smile and long, golden hair and just knew. She had to be his tonight. CS o/s SMUT


A/N: It wouldn't leave me alone. AU. Chuck/Serena. For all intents and purposes, they've never met nor do they know anything about each other. Nate and Blair are irrelevant, as are all other GG characters (except potentially Bart &/or Lily).

**DISCLAIMER**: FYI, in real life I never have nor will I probably ever ship CS as a couple or anything other than siblings/friends. This fic does not present my official shipping opinions.

…

He had to have her.

He saw her legs, her pushed up breasts, her contagious smile and long, golden hair and just knew.

She had to be his _tonight_.

…

The night had started out the same as it had every night before. He wasn't tired of it. He loved the partying, the drinking, the women. He loved it when the scantily clad drunk college chicks would hit on him, and sometimes he'd reciprocate. No one needed to know that he was only seventeen. Not that it would have mattered. He had a way with women, a charm that most of the time they found hard to resist. Just like his father did.

His general crowd had mostly left him. Not as a sort of desertion but because they wanted to leave. Chuck didn't. He never did. He waited till the last call every night. The clubs were his 'special place'. He could hide and enjoy himself at the same time.

He had just turned away from the bar to look across the dance floor when he saw her. The strobe lights passed across her face and he immediately got hard. His hand clenched around his glass of scotch, but he forced himself to regain his cool. It wasn't as if he'd never encountered beautiful women before, but this was something different.

She was flawless, exquisite, too perfect to be real. And she needed to be violated.

Normally he wouldn't think in such animalistic terms when he decided to take a woman to bed – or to the back room, whichever it may be. But there was something about this girl that told him she was either going to be really easy or really difficult, and he was not inclined to raping such a beautiful creature.

But he knew he had to have her. Whatever the cost.

She caught his eye from across the room and he knew he was done for. Unlike the illusion many girls put over him, this one only became more stunning the closer she came. Her sparkling silver mini-dress made her legs look even longer, as did the four inch shiny heels that accompanied it. Her eyes sparkled with blue powder and her lashes drew special attention to the temptation she portrayed. Her lips displayed shiny pink lip gloss, and once she was close enough, he could smell her; and she smelled like Heaven.

"Hey," she said casually, sliding onto the stool behind him.

He smirked, and turned back in towards the bar.

"Chuck Bass," he complied.

She turned her head and smiled prettily at him.

"Serena. But I wasn't talking to you."

He gave her a look of puzzlement, but she only turned back to where the bartender was standing and ordered her toxic drink.

"I haven't seen you in here before," Chuck said, admiring her form even as she'd insulted him. There was still hope that she wouldn't be difficult. One insult didn't automatically cause another.

"Is this your regular place?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder inquisitively. And flirtatiously. She knew just what she was doing to him.

"For now," he said.

She smirked approvingly, and he knew he had her.

"What's your story?" she asked, sound half-curious, half-tormenting. It was a trick she often used. A life story determined whether to pursue the male who had encountered her.

"Shall I guess yours?" he asked innocently, taking another swallow of his scotch.

She smiled coolly. "Do you dance?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Only if I'm coerced," he said, and winked at her. Truth was he absolutely _detested_ dancing – except for ballroom dancing, since that apparently was a huge trigger for seducing women. But by the way she was looking at him, and the way she looked _period_, he thought he might be willing to give it a try. He'd seen enough of his friends' attempts at club dancing to know what _not_ to do.

Her eyes sparkled and she spun her chair away from him to slip off of it and toward the dance floor. He watched her swaying hips and her luscious ass covered in sparkling silver and knew she was pulling him in. Another look over her shoulder and he found himself slipping out of his jacket and following her out into the strobe lights as mass of people grinding against each other.

Lightly, he set his hands on her waist and then implanted them lower onto her hips. She turned to face him and he realized that she was about an inch or so taller than him in her heels. He didn't mean. Tall could be good. It suggested a model. And with this body, there was no room for complaints.

The lust in his eyes was potent, as was her curving body moving into his. He felt breathless, choked by the heat between them.

"Nice dress," he commented, when she moved his hand further down her side.

She smirked. "I bet you like what's underneath of it even more."

"Depends," he said sultrily, then leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Does it sparkle?"

She laughed. "It might," she purred into his own ear. Then without warning she sank her teeth gently onto the skin of his neck and began to suckle.

He pulled her closer as heated chills raced through him. He was becoming painfully hard, and dismissive towards the fact that he wasn't actually moving that much on the dance floor. _She_ was moving, and she was doing it _well_. She was doing it against him, and it was making him horny.

He pulled his head back enough to see her face and then went in for the kill, claiming her lips with his own and plunging his tongue into her moist, wet mouth. His fingers dug into the sequins on her dress until he was pulling her desperately close and his hands were wandering dangerously close to the hem of her dress.

She took a small step back, her lips swollen and her eyes hungry.

"I think we're making them jealous," she murmured, gesturing to the general crowd.

He smirked. "What do you suggest?" he asked huskily.

"Maybe…we should go somewhere more quiet?" she offered innocently.

He looked like a Cheshire Cat, his smile stretching straight across his face.

"Besides…" She ran her hand down the front of his shirt, halting at his belt buckle. Then she lifted her eyes to him and he nearly came at the unadulterated heavy lust in her eyes. "I really wanna get out of this dress."

By some effort of pure willpower, he took a step back and offered her his arm. She took it gratefully, and just before they left the room, he paid both their tabs and grabbed his jacket.

…

They didn't go far. They didn't even make it to the next room.

A few feet past the bathrooms there was a little corridor to the left where a large payphone booth used to be. He pushed her into it and began to ravage her, as quickly and as slowly as possible.

He kissed her madly, always faster and more intense, deeper, lapping at her tongue, biting at her lip. Then he found the short zipper at the back of her tube-style dress and the top of her sparkling attire peeled over, revealing her large breasts that poured into his hands. He devoured them, licked them, suckled, nibbled, tried to swallow them whole. He would've done it if his mouth had been large enough.

Next was the hem of her dress. She lifted herself slightly, so he could push it up. The dress she wore was satin underneath, not scratchy, or thin even, as he'd assumed. It was soft and exquisite, but not nearly as feather-like as the feel of her tan skin. She was the type of girl that waxed her legs, and regularly. He gloried in that. They shone even in the darkness.

"You are fucking fantastic, Serena," he purred as he began to kneel to his feet.

"Ah-ah-ah." She shook her finger at him and lifted herself off the bench. "Me first," she said into his ear after she'd softly bit it. She bent her own knees, unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper and swallowed him whole.

His grunted at the first intake. His hands were bracing himself on the corners of the wall as she continued to suck him, moving her mouth up and down, taking his so deep he was sure she'd choke, but she didn't. She ran her tongue down the underside of his dick and then popped his balls in and out of her mouth. Her nails drilled down the front of his bare thighs and then her hands wrapped around his legs until she was grabbing onto his ass, using the grip to pull him closer to her, forcing his dick nearly halfway down her throat.

He made a sound that could have qualified as being a grunting squeal, and she released him and shrugged him out of his unbuttoned shirt.

"Now, you can do me," she informed him, seduction in the irises of her eyes.

His eyes were hooded, dark, and desperate. "Oh, I plan to," he said huskily. She'd awoken the barbarous animal in him and he did not plan to restrain the ravenous beast any longer.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck and passionately kissed her, more hungrily then before. He was wild for her, _needed_ her essence, desired nothing less.

He forced her off the high bench briefly, so he could finally rid her of her dress, then he forced his whole hand into her core and pumped her relentlessly. She was tight, but he could fit, and she could feel it. He knew she could, because he was sweating from the moisture drenching his hand and her legs wrapped around his waist as she fell back onto the bench, her head pushed onto the cold, dirty wall.

When he'd finished with his hand, he lowered to lick her folds. He swirled his tongue around her erect clit and she screamed and pushed his head further into her, her fingers in a tight-knit hold in his hair. Finally, she yanked him up. He was dripping of her fluids.

"Fuck me, Chuck," she said in short breaths. "Fuck me now."

His eyes were liquid fire. For a split second he took them off of her to fish a condom out of his abandon pants and encased himself in it. Then, he grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of her seat. She braced herself just barely with her hands behind her on the smooth wood.

He wasn't slow. He wasn't gentle. He was hard and rough and he thrust into her, over and over, then long and deep, then so fast he swore she stopped breathing, because he was slipping in and out of her with all the juices she produced.

She tried to push herself up closer to him, and it was only succeeded when he lifted her himself and turned her so she was pressed against the adjacent wall. Her skin was sweating and her hair was plastered to it, especially to her face, but he could see her parted lips and sparkling eyelids and he kissed her because she was there, and he was intoxicated.

When they'd switched positions three times, she reversed them again, pushing him onto the bench and straddling him. At first he held her down against his chest and thrust up into her, but then she snapped his legs together with her knees and he stopped.

"Me," she demanded, holding a fiery gaze with him.

He relaxed and she no longer held him imprisoned. Instead, she lifted herself up and down his dick. She ground against him. She moved fluidly and seductively, taking him in and out, almost jumping three times faster when his mouth enclosed around her breasts again and he stuck his middle finger around into her asshole.

"God, Chuck." She moaned, and then she screamed, because he'd made her come. He'd started thrusting again, and he'd swirled his finger around her clit again.

It was too much. All the pressure, all the delicious sensation, was too much to keep her sane, to keep her stable.

He was not far behind in maintaining his sanity.

…

Ten minutes was all it took to recover, though both guessed the real recovery would be an overnight one, and it would take several showers to move past memories of this night.

"Fantastic fuck, Mr. Bass," she said, slipping back into her sparkling dress. She was too weak to walk in those heels just yet.

"Likewise, Miss Van der Woodsen."

She looked up at him. "You know me?"

"It's written on your dress."

She turned and unzipped herself to see the large letters engraved on the satin. She pouted and then shook her head, wondering.

"Goodnight, Chuck," she said brusquely, but sent one more seductive smile over her shoulder as she left.

He smirked, still watching her swaying hips as she walked away.

_Fantastic fuck indeed_, he thought, patting his already hardening dick through the expensive fabric of his pants.


End file.
